Memories are hard to define. You could call them marvelous blessings that allow you to go back and remember beautiful days and meaningful conversations and good times. They can also be scabs, close to coming loose and bleeding all over again. Memories of pain, and memories of beauty. On Zena Dell Schroeder’s blog she quotes someone who refers to memories as either an anchor or a rudder–they can hold you down or guide and teach you.

All that to say that I’m thankful for memories, thankful that I can look back in the middle of CHOW and see the lake at sunrise, not a ripple on the water, a perfect reflection of the trees and sky.